


Ink 'til I'm Human

by templecat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Mild Angst, Post Season 8, Romance, Tattoo Kink, Tattoos, human!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-08-09
Packaged: 2017-12-22 23:10:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/templecat/pseuds/templecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one expected this would be how he copes, least of all Castiel himself. But Dean seems to like it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ink 'til I'm Human

It was a sensation he had never experienced in his millennia of existence and it was that, more than anything else, that truly brought home his status as an oxygen-scarfing, down-in-the-mud mortal. As the demon smoked through his veins and seeped into his mind, taking control of his stolen brain, he couldn’t deny that any vestiges of grace that might have once resided in Jimmy Novak’s former body were long gone.

A demon cannot suffer an angel and it was abundantly clear that he wasn’t one.

Following a frantic exorcism and swift bit of scampering Castiel and the Winchesters made it back to the waiting Impala in a surprisingly injury-free condition. With wordless consensus they drove, not to the warmth and safety of the Bunker, but to the nearest tattoo parlour. They spotted one, still open despite the late hour, and they filed in. If the man behind the counter thought the trio odd then he didn’t show it, even when the tallest of them pulled down his collar to reveal a pentagram tattoo, pointed at it then at Castiel and said “This, on him. Can you do it?”

The tattooist nodded, peering closely at the ink over Sam’s chest. “You want it identical to this? Size, place, colour?” He side-eyed Castiel who nodded, trying not to dwell on the implications of the whole thing. “You want it done now?”

The utter helplessness he’d felt as he fought against the possession and lost was still unwaveringly fresh and he grasped at this small piece of control. “Yes. Please.”

The tattooist looked him up and down and smirked. “First tattoo buddy?”

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

“Not at all. You hairy?”

“Is that some sort of tattoo slang?”

The tattooist laughed. “On your chest. If you’re hairy then you’re gonna need to get shaved first.”

“Oh. No I am fairly smooth.”

Dean sniggered and Cas felt some of the tension that had built up in his muscle since the encounter with the demon begin to ease. It didn’t take long after that to sort out the details and for Castiel to get lectured on tattooing safety and care. They fixed a price and Castiel followed the tattooist, who introduced himself as Carl, into a white room that smelled of cleaning supplies.

Sam excused himself to go and procure some form of supper for them all but Dean hovered by the doorway, watching as Cas eased himself into the reclining tattoo chair. He stared impassively at the man who was about to spend the next hours needling ink into his skin. If it wasn’t for the way his left hand was balled into a fist at his side Dean would not have thought him even the least bit nervous.

But Dean knew the ex-angel, knew how much he had to take on board when he was stripped of his grace; all those little things like having to go to the bathroom, getting out of breath after fighting a vamp, throwing up that dodgy truckstop burger, aching, sleeping, sweating. All those very human little things. So very alien to the divine and immortal.

Cas hadn’t complained once, trying to hide the toll it was taking on his stolen body and broken spirit. Dean didn’t know if it was outright denial or a stubborn form of acceptance but as he watched Cas close his eyes and clench his jaw as Carl prepared his skin he knew that something had changed. Whatever Cas had experienced as the demon swallowed his will had caused that expression to etch itself into his features. Dean focused on the way his lips tightened at the corners, drawing his mouth into a thin line. His brow had dropped lower, casting his eyes into shadow they seemed sunken in his skull and causing his forehead to crinkle oh so slightly, held in constant tension.

Dean knew that look. Castiel was grieving. He was in pain and about to go through more for the sake of all that he had lost.

Cas opened in his eyes in surprise when he felt a hand slot through his fisted fingers. He looked up to see Dean stood next to him, an unreadable expression on his face. He didn’t speak but continued to stroke his thumb reassuringly in the hollow of Cas’ palm.

“Ready?” Carl leant over him, needle poised over Cas’ heart.

A quick gentle squeeze of his hand. “Yes.”

The needle blurred into life. It touched down on Cas’ freshly cleansed skin and left a sharp pain and perfect line of dark ink in its wake. And with it, to Castiel’s silent surprise, came a loosening of some of the muscles between his shoulders. _This isn’t right_ , _pain makes me tense_. But the needle scratched its way across his pectoral and he could feel himself unravelling. The tension he held seeped away until his hand curled gently around Deans. He melted into the chair and listened to the whirr of the machine and it drowned out the thoughts that clawed at the inside of his skull.

But the most wondrous thing occurred as he watched. Where before had been bare, pale skin grew neat lines and dark swirls that coalesced into something that was entirely his. And it struck him that he could have this, have something that was entirely his own and carry it with him as a part of himself. He had changed himself, in a simple aesthetic basic way, yes, but he had nevertheless wrought his power of free will and used to create something beautiful. All the more so because it was his. Completely and utterly and unconditionally.

He allowed himself the tiniest of smiles, despite his shredded soul, and it felt good.

 

* * *

 

 The next time, two months later, he went to Carl alone, a folded piece of paper between his fingers. He spread it on the counter and revealed the page of symbols, like nothing the tattooist had seen before. When Castiel explained what he wanted the man had smiled and set about drawing it up. Three hours later Castiel had walked out of the tattoo parlour with his ribs stinging.

* * *

 

It was almost a year after his demon possession and Castiel was stepping out of the steamy bathroom into his bedroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, when he bumped into Dean.

“Sorry man, I didn’t realise you were-“ He trailed off when he caught sight of Cas’ exposed arms and chest. He sucked in a breath and stared incredulously at the dark patterns decorating his pale, damp skin. Castiel felt the back of his neck getting warm but stood silently while Dean appraised him, trying not to shift self-consciously. Eventually Dean raised his gaze, frowning. “When did you get all these?”

Cas shrugged. “Over the past few months.”

“They’re...” Dean blew out a sigh that sounded oddly mournful. “They’re beautiful.”

Cas stiffened, surprised. He looked down at his chest where the water from his shower was making the black ink appear brighter than it would normally. He had gotten so used to them over the past few months that he felt strangely exposed having them so intensely studied now. He walked towards his dresser and began pulling out clothes. He pulled on a pair of boxers under his towel and tried to ignore the heat of Deans gaze on his back. He was trying so hard to put Dean out of his mind that he almost jumped out of his inked skin when he felt soft fingers touch his back. He sucked in a breath as Dean traced the patterned circles between his shoulder blades.

“Are these... is this where your wings used to be?” His words was a soft whisper that brushed warmly across Castiels shoulder and there was a note of emotion in voice that Castiel couldn’t identify.

“Yes.” He replied simply. When he didn’t offer any more information Deans fingers moved from the tiny mandalas either side of his spine and ghosted over the two simple rings of black ink encircling his right bicep.

“What are these for?”

Castiel swallowed and for a long moment he didn’t think he was going to answer. But he could feel Deans body heat warming his bare skin and the way the tips of his fingers still brushed softly against his arm. He kept staring at his feet, not daring to look over his shoulder at the man behind him. “You and Sam. One for each of you.”

The fingers stilled and Cas tensed. Then Dean let out a breath he’d clearly been holding and it made Castiel shudder as it blew past his neck. “Why?”

“I was bound to Heaven for millennia. Now I’m down here and I have a choice who to be with. For a being that was created to serve a single cause that is a trauma and a gift that I’m not sure even I can fully comprehend.” Finally he looked up and turned to see Dean staring at him with a painful expression of awe. “But it is not a difficult choice to make.” He let out a small, cautious smile, trying to ease the weight of words. “It was always going to be the Winchesters. This,” he touched the rings and his fingertips brushed Deans, “is just a promise to myself.”

Deans voice was raw when he spoke.”A promise of what?”

“To remember. What I’ve lost, what you’ve lost, what you’ve sacrificed for me. That for someone with a family of millions you were the ones who showed me what that meant. That for all that I lost when I was stripped of my grace you are a reminder of all that I’ve gained.”

“Cas...”

Cas turned so that he was facing Dean, barely a breaths space between them. Dean still held Castiel’s arm, felt the raised skin where the ink held a promise. The smile on Cas’ lips was almost sad, but his eyes swam with a fire that set the blue alight. Dean’s chest felt tight but he couldn’t find the words even if he wanted to speak.

“You weren’t supposed to know. It was meant to be my promise.”

Cas looked down. His hair was still damp from the shower and tiny drops of water fell to the floor.  Deans grip on his arm tightened.

“Promises can be shared.” Dean brought his free hand to Cas’ face and gently pulled his chin up so they were looking at each other again. “You’re not the only one who found family Cas.”

“But you have Sam-“

“And I have you too. Before I had a brother, and now I have...” He couldn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t know how to. How could he? What word could encapsulate everything this stupid, featherless tattooed man was to him? The man who had defied heaven for him. Who dragged his decimated soul from the depths of hell and rebuilt him. Who had been torn from heaven and landed at his feet like he’d come home. Who took up all his thoughts like he had seeped into his mind. Who was standing before him now with a promise in his skin and a look of fearful hope in his eyes.

Without another thought Dean pressed his lips to Cas’ with so much force they both slammed into the dresser behind him. Cas let out a sound of muffled shock that melted into a moan when Dean threaded his fingers into the short hair at the back of his neck. It only took a flick of Deans tongue against the inside of his lips and Cas parted them, allowing Dean to take full advantage, pushing in deeper. They moved with a forceful passion that bruised the small of Castiels back as he hit the top of the dresser.

He pressed against his chest, balling the other mans t-shirt in his fingers. Dean growled and the sound thrummed through Cas’ mouth and straight downwards. Dean pulled back and for a panicked moment Cas thought he had done something wrong, gone too far and he felt the absence of Deans lips like lost air. But then Dean was back, his now bare chest pressed flush to his, having thrown his shirt to one side. Dean pushed one leg between his, rubbing against the growing bulge in his boxers. Cas’ head dropped back onto his shoulders and he moaned.

He could feel Dean smile against his neck as he kissed and sucked his way down to the hollow of his throat. “You like that Cas?”

His voice was so low and filled with smug humour as he rubbed his leg between Cas’ again, eliciting another moan. Cas didn’t answer and instead pulled Deans lips back up to his. They were both breathing hard when they broke for air.

“How many?”

The question threw Cas for a moment, confused. “How many what?”

Dean ran his fingers along the symbols running in neat lines down Cas’ side, who shuddered. “Tattoos. How many do you have?”

“Twelve.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”

Dean let out a strangled noise and pushed harder against Cas. He kissed hard, gripping Cas’ hair before moving his lips to hover next to his ear. His breath was hot and his voice was low as he whispered “I’m going to taste them all.”

Before Cas had chance to respond Dean had pulled him down onto the bed, pushing him into the mattress with the weight of his body. His hand snaked across Cas’ chest, leaving trails of fire where his light fingers touched. They stopped at his hips and Cas nipped a protest against his lips.

Dean pulled back and looked at Cas with a serious expression, despite his blown pupils and swollen lips. Cas stilled underneath him, frowning, hand resting against the racing beat in Deans neck. “What’s wrong?”

Dean stared at him intensely. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? It’s happening kind of fast and I don’t want you to regret it. I don’t think I could handle it if you regretted this.”

Cas slid his hand up to cup Deans cheek. “Dean, I want this. I have never been more sure of anything in my long, long life.”

For a moment Dean didn’t reply, searching his face for any signs that they should stop. Then his face split open in a grin and said “Thank fuck for that.” He was on Cas again immediately, kissing fiercely but softer than before and suddenly the rhythm shifted; their frantic desperate lust evolved into a passion that was slower and more gentle than before, but burned just as fiercely. Cas moved his hand down Deans back, ghosting along his spine before slipping his hand below the waist of his jeans. Dean gasped into Cas’ mouth who smiled and muttered “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

“Yeah?” He smirked as he reached down and cupped Cas through his boxers. Now it was Cas’ turn to gasp and what little colour that was left around his pupils shrank into a tiny ring of blue. “What are you going to do about it?”

Cas growled and suddenly Dean was on his back, Cas straddling his hips. He sucked in a breath at the sight of him, sweating above him, tattoos shining. Before he could take in the full picture Cas had both hands pushing down his jeans and he lifted his hips to help him pull them off. He bit back a moan as he rocked up into Cas, feeling his hardness against his own. Fortunately Cas wasted hardly any time in removing the last of Deans clothes, tossing jeans, socks and boxers alike to the floor.

And then his lips were back on Deans and his hands were everywhere and Dean thought he would catch fire if he didn’t touch Cas soon. He reached down between them, enjoying the way Cas rolled his chest against his as his hand slid against his skin, and then he slipped his hand into Cas’ boxers, gripping him hard. Cas moaned and pushed into his hand eagerly. With a quick hand he slid his boxers down and kicked them to the floor to join Deans.

Dean slid his hand up Cas’ cock and rubbed his thumb in the precum at the top.

“ _Fuck_.”

Cas had Deans cock in his hand and was pumping to the same rhythm as Dean. Their hips rolled together and they continued to kiss, wet and heavy and full of each other’s moans.

They were jerking each other like eager teenagers, and it was messy and loud and wet, but god if it wasn’t the hottest thing Dean had ever seen. Cas was forceful above him, pushing him into the mattress, sliding his hardness against Deans. He pulled his lips from Deans neck to whisper in his ear. “Come for me Dean. I want to see you come.” And he pressed his weight in him, increasing the speed of his hand and it was all Dean needed to tip him over the edge. He came harder than he had ever done in his life and repeated Cas’ name like both a curse and a prayer as he did.

Cas unravelled as Dean spilled over his hand and he followed him, with a moan of “Dean” that was swallowed by Deans lips over his.

They both collapsed and lay still, panting hard. Cas rolled off Dean and lay on his back next to him, letting the post-orgasm waves roll over him.

“Fuck me Cas. Who taught you to do that?”

Dean propped himself up, looking down at the blissed-out man next to him with something akin to awe on his face. Cas looked up at him and smirked. “One of the perks of being human; I’ve been having long showers.”

Dean let out a bark of laughter and leant down to kiss him again. It was softer this time, slow and without force behind it. They broke apart and he reached over to the bedside table, pulling out tissues to clean them both up. After he did he balled them up and threw them over hand into the trashcan.

The air was cool on their sweaty skin and he pulled a blanket from the foot of the bed and draped it over both of their waists and legs. Finally he lay back down and let out a long sigh. Cas turned into him and nestled his face into Deans neck. He slid a hand across Dean’s chest and let out a contented murmur.

 “You didn’t see all my tattoos.”

 “I will.” He could feel Cas smile into his shoulder. Cas drew in steady slow breaths and snuggled further against Dean, draping a leg over his. “Hey, you better not be falling asleep on me now. I’m not a cuddler.”

Cas’ breath was hot on his neck. “Shut up Dean.”

Dean smiled and threaded his fingers through Cas’ where they lay on his stomach. Cas lay content against his neck, eyes closed and already drifting off to sleep, but he gave a gentle squeeze on Deans hand.

Maybe he could cuddle. Just this once.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So I had a whole plan for Cas' tattoos but the story ran away with me and I tried putting them all in but it felt a bit forced, so I'll leave it up to you to think what the others might be.
> 
> Also I have never written anything resembling smut before, and I don't really know where this came from, so constructive criticism would be totally welcomed. I hope it wasn't too awkward to read.


End file.
